Chapter Eleven
Tawny
I needed to get moving. So far, I had managed to read five books and dust off a few others, but I hadn’t gotten much beyond that point.
It didn’t help that every book I picked up looked more intriguing than the one before.
In my past life, books had been hard to come by.
The pathetic excuse for a secondhand store in the nearby town had also been the used bookstore, its selections occupying a small shelf near the checkout counter.
I didn’t mind the ragged covers or occasional dog-eared page, but many were in far worse shape than that, with actual pages torn out or stained so badly as to be unreadable.
And the genres…varied widely considering the number of volumes available.
On one visit to town, I’d gone through the entire selection and only found two fiction books.
The rest were things like motorcycle manuals, dishwasher manuals, and other similar enticing titles.
With no library nearby, we were even more limited.
The small collection I’d left behind had included every book I’d ever bought at the shop—less than two dozen in total.
My new store, Pleasant Pages might be very dirty, but it held a treasure trove of books. More than I could read in a lifetime. Although I was more than willing to give it a try.
Like the thrift store, my building also had an upstairs apartment, and I’d been torn on whether to fix it up first so Janis didn’t have to put up with me any longer, but she waylaid me on my way to the bookstore. “Tawny, can I have a word?”
“Oh, sure.” I paused, almost to the front door. “Did you need help here today? I’d be glad to lend a hand.”
“No, we’re covered. I just wanted to make sure you aren’t planning to leave me for that spider-infested attic over the bookstore anytime soon.”
“Um, actually I…”
“I knew it. My dear, you are not a burden or the least bit of trouble.”
“But I should pay you rent then, until the apartment over the store is ready. If I do that, I’ll feel comfortable putting it off until after the business is ready to open.”
“I won’t take a dime from you. Since you’ve been staying here, I have been eating much better and laughing a lot more. Not to mention you lending a hand in the shop, which I should be paying you for.”
“But you are doing most of the cooking.”
“It’s much more fun to cook for two than one. I hope when you’ve moved out at last, you’ll come eat with me once in a while. Now”—she patted my arm and smiled—“what shall we have to eat tonight?”
We decided on orange chicken, a specialty of Janis’.
Strolling down the block, I looked in all those clean, shiny windows with a renewed appreciation and sense of belonging.
And I knew what to do as soon as possible.
Not organizing or dusting the book, not painting the shop or cleaning the bathroom.
Certainly not doing anything upstairs since Janis stated her case.
I’d be sure to help out more in the thrift store, and take some turns cooking, to be sure I pulled my weight.
I still had trouble accepting how much my life had improved in recent days.
But this morning, I would clean my windows and make them as beautiful and shiny as my neighbors’. Show Janis and all the other chamber of commerce members I cared about the town and how it appeared to locals and visitors alike.
Of course, then everyone would be able to see all the rest of the dirt. What to do? What did people do when they had a business they were working on and wanted to prevent other people from seeing inside until they were ready?
I stood on the sidewalk and closed my eyes, picturing what I had seen in the past. A Coming Soon sign flashed in my mind.
I’d need one of those, but I’d also need to buy something to shield the interior from unwelcome observation.
Currently, the filthy windows served to keep all but the most determined from seeing inside.
But I wanted to have a big reveal. And clean windows.
And then I remembered a little store back in the other town. They sold sneakers and a little sporting equipment. While the owners were preparing the interior, they lined the windows with brown paper of some kind. Which I could get where?
The stationers? Probably not. But maybe the hardware store?
Worth a try, so I veered off down the block and into the store in question.
It was a wonderful place, and I felt sure I could find just about anything I needed for my project.
The owner was so nice, offering me a local-business discount.
He knew exactly what kind of paper I was looking for, and in less than five minutes, I headed back to the Pages, the big fat roll in my arms and a bucket filled with miscellaneous cleaning items slung over my wrist.
So ready to get started, I managed to knock over a stack of historical biographies, sending a cloud of noxious dust into the air. I sneezed. And sneezed, and sneezed some more, tears streaming down my face.
At a rap on the front door, I turned to face it, tears blurring my vision. Who was here now?